The first words General Ironwood said to her as he walked into the office were, "She's fine." Winter would have thanked him, but other priorities clawed their way out of her throat.

"Fine?" she demanded, turning on her heel and pacing another lap in front of the desk. It wasn't a very large lap—even on a flagship, most of the space was devoted to machinery, weapons, and storage—and even the attempt was making her feel caged. "I cannot imagine that an unarmed duel with a White Fang operative leads to being fine by anyone's definition of the word.

The general sighed and sat down behind his desk. "Weiss isn't injured, beyond a few cuts and bruises and probably a mild concussion. Her aura will clear it all up by tomorrow. I'm not sure how," he admitted, "and she says she hit her head, so she doesn't know either."

Winter clutched the hilt of her saber. "I see."

"Oz is going to handle the media coverage, make sure everything is spun to hell and back so that we don't have an outright panic on our hands. But let's not mince words, here. Thousands of people would have died today if it weren't for Weiss somehow managing to win a fight while unarmed and unconscious, or a White Fang operative growing a conscience in the middle of an attempted bombing—I'm not sure which is more unlikely, but either way we can't count on another fluke like that." He paused. "No offense to your sister."

"No," Winter said. "You're right. The fact that she and her team were in that situation in the first place is an unforgivable failure on our part."

"Winter... we're going to be busy cleaning up this mess for a while, but if you ever want to go talk to her, please don't hesitate to ask."

Her jaw started to ache. "She doesn't want to see me. Sir."

At that, the general got up to put a hand on her shoulder. "I may not have the full story," he said, "but I know enough, and I know you. Even if she doesn't understand why you chose to make that sacrifice, you were only doing what was best for her. She's a smart girl. She'll recognize that, someday."

It didn't help—an unfortunate consequence of how little he knew. Winter swallowed the temptation to ask him, really ask him, if he thought she'd done the right thing all those years ago. It left a sour taste behind. "What do we need to do next, sir?"

He cleared his throat and turned back to his desk, scooping a handful of papers off the top. "These terrorists didn't just attack a crowd today. They attacked Amity, the treaty, and the peace itself. Our strength is being tested. If we don't react decisively, more are sure to follow. We cannot descend into another Great War."

Winter's death grip on her saber's hilt relaxed. Here was a problem she could act on. "We need to capture the one who got away," she said. "By any means necessary."

"That's an important part of it," agreed General Ironwood. "It's going to be hellishly difficult, seeing as the only thing we know about her is that she can change her appearance at will. We can't count on that happening quickly, and we need to make a statement now. So, that leaves us with the other one."

"Taurus."

"Exactly." The general shuffled through the paperwork and pointed to one paragraph with his thumb. "I tracked down the legal status of Amity. It's enough of a grey area that I think we can make a case for Atlas to take custody of Taurus. The only problem is that Oz doesn't like it—and I understand why, but now isn't the time for lofty idealism. He'll come around once Vale's council approves it."

"I'm not sure I understand. Why not try him in Vale?"

"Acts like this one threaten all of Remnant," the general explained. "We need to make an example of Taurus. And Vale's justice system is... ill-equipped for the task."

It clicked. "Of course, sir," she said, bowing her head.

Taurus was all but guaranteed to earn the worst punishment the court could throw at him—and in Atlas, unlike Vale, that meant an execution.

The thing about the Crater: reception was worse down here than twenty miles out in the tundra. It was the angle, mostly—they had all the rock and earth of the city in the sky between them and the CCT. Other students had teased Fiona sometimes in the Academy, because she kept thirty reference tabs saved on her scroll out of sheer habit and never thought to use video calls.

The memory of it wasn't painful. That kind of teasing she could laugh along with. It was funny, even if the why of it was pretty sad, and nobody who really wanted to hurt her back then bothered getting to know her well enough to notice when her ears were right there. But it did mean that sometimes, when she visited her uncle, she... missed out on some things.

"Defend the peace!"

Fiona squeaked and dropped her soup. She winced as the can hit the ground. She hated wasting food, especially here, especially when her uncle had made it for her. "I'm so sorry—no, no, that's okay!" She pressed his own meal firmly back into his hands. "You keep it, I need to go find out what that was."

She could eat later. Her team would have already had dinner without her, since she'd told them in advance she'd be visiting family today, but she could always sneak some leftovers.

Take. Take some leftovers. Nobody would mind. Except Fiona, because she would probably still be thinking about a spilled can of soup and wishing, not for the first time, that her uncle would let her bring the food. He'd taken care of her for years, it was the least she could do—but they'd talked about this. He wasn't starving. He wanted to cook for her and it was okay to let him.

Deep breaths. It was just soup. And she really, really needed to investigate the yelling, because it hadn't stopped after the first shout. If anything, it was getting louder.

She knew the instant she passed out of Atlas' shadow, because her scroll blew up. Nobody had tried to call her—it was possible to get through to the Crater, sometimes, when the stars aligned just so and it wasn't too cloudy, but only Joanna ever had the patience to try. Instead there was a series of texts, mostly from Robyn.

Fiona only had time to read the most recent one—from May, "Call as soon as you get out of the deadzone!"—before she found the source of the noise.

After this long in Mantle, she could tell at a glance that this wasn't an organized protest. No one had signs, for one thing, and half the crowd was milling around as though they weren't totally sure what was going on. Alarm bells went off when she started to feel eyes on her, and realized that they were all human. Not that weird in some parts of Mantle, but this close to the Crater?

Nope. Fiona turned on her heel and headed down the nearest side street, walking briskly but not running. She heard the same phrase shouted at her back, "Defend the peace!" and then, "Justice for Amity!" which was a lot more concerning.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed. Her heartbeat spiked when she noticed one of the crowd standing on the corner, staring at her—but she didn't move any closer. Fiona jabbed at Robyn's contact on her scroll, and did her best to keep a lookout for threats without being too obvious about it.

"Fiona! Where are you? Are you alright?"

"I'm okay." She turned another corner, and started jogging as soon as she was out of sight. "Just passed a big crowd down on Legune Avenue. What's going on?"

"Someone tried to blow up Amity Coliseum."

"What? Who?"

"The White Fang."

"But why would they—" Fiona cut herself off and groaned. "Right. Vale branch. Never mind."

"Where are you right now?" Robyn asked again, and Fiona told her. "Okay. Take Prospect, Joanna's going to come meet you."

"That bad?"

"I know you can take care of yourself," Robyn said apologetically. "But..."

"It's okay." Fiona took another deep breath. It was just frustrating having to be escorted back to her own apartment. But even though she could defend herself if she had to, that could easily backfire. She might have what Sienna Khan liked to call "cute privilege"—which was such a bitchy way to put it, by the way—but she was also a trained Huntress. If a group of humans attacked her and one of them got hurt, well. It would be a job and a half trying to explain to a judge that yes, actually, twenty people in an angry mob is still a threat to your life even if you have an active aura.

It was annoying, but she was still glad for the company. The moment Fiona caught sight of Joanna waving to her from the end of the street, she could finally let herself relax a little. She waited for her to approach and caught her in a quick hug.

"You said you saw a mob?"

Fiona nodded. "Does Robyn need us right now? I'd rather be out in the Crater in case something happens."

"Shouldn't, but better call her anyway."

Fiona tried—it went straight to voicemail. "Aw, crap..."

She got May a few seconds later. "What's the crisis?"

May replied with a wordless snarl. So this was off to a promising start.

"Is it about Amity?" Fiona asked. "Or do we have to multitask."

"Jimmy's trying to get the ringleader tried in Atlas."

"He what?"

Fiona wouldn't lose any sleep over Taurus, but if his trial landed in Atlas... it would turn into exactly the kind of statement Ironwood wanted. This man is evil, it would say. You are not safe until this man is dead. And, inevitably, This man is not alone.

Mantle's White Fang didn't have a central office, and hadn't since someone had broken in and killed the receptionist over a decade ago. They were used to hiding from the police and from angry humans looking to take matters into their own hands. A violent mob would have no idea where to find them.

Everyone knew where the Crater was.

Fiona put the scroll on speaker so Joanna could hear, because she wasn't sure she'd be up for repeating all this. "Do we know how Ozpin responded?"

"He said no, but it looks like Vale's council is going to approve it anyway."

Fiona's ears flicked anxiously. Joanna slung an arm over her shoulders and asked, "What's Robyn doing?"

"On a call with Sleet. She's trying Camilla next, but her odds of getting both of them to listen to reason are pretty much nil. Even if she does, Jimmy counts as two councilmen—so that's going to turn into a dick-measuring contest, and we all know he can't resist one of those."

Ironwood's position on the council meant he could tie the rest of them all on his own, at least until the empty seat finally got filled—by Robyn, if they managed to do any actual campaigning between crises. It helped that her biggest competitor was a classic Mantle politician with dozens of corruption scandals under his belt and the charisma of wet cardboard. Robyn should get the seat. She would... but that wouldn't help them right now.

"We need to plan for the worst," Joanna said. "Even if this doesn't go through, things are going to get ugly down here."

Ugly could mean a lot of things. It could mean that nasty crowd lingering where they were, shouting about justice and peace to terrify her uncle's neighborhood. Or it could mean a repeat of the fire the year before Fiona left for the academy—payback, supposedly, for a string of arsons up in Atlas. She and her uncle hadn't been anywhere near the epicenter, but their house had still smelled like smoke for weeks. She remembered jolting awake in a cold sweat whenever her sleeping brain registered the scent, her heart pounding so hard it was impossible to fall back to sleep.

In Robyn's absence, May assured them that they had the politics side of things handled for the moment. So Joanna hung up the scroll and tucked it into her pocket, and the two of them set off towards the Crater at a brisk walk.

"I don't think I can come back to the apartment for a while," Fiona said miserably. "I need to be with my uncle, in case something happens."

Joanna nodded gravely. "We can stay with you. Most of us, anyway, someone's going to have to sleep somewhere there's reception. But the Crater is where we'll be needed if things take a turn for the worse."

And then, because she was wonderful and knew Fiona wouldn't relax unless she confirmed the obvious, "We'll bring our own groceries."

Clothes.

No time to be picky—Kali opened every drawer in their dresser and unceremoniously flung a handful off the top of each and into a pair of suitcases. The suit that hung in the closet, gone unused and slightly musty in the years since they'd needed to look presentable to hostile humans, she treated with more care, folding each piece one-handed and stacking them neatly.

"Call my daughter that word again," she said conversationally into the scroll in her other hand, "and I will stuff that hood of yours so far down your throat—"

Across the room, Ghira shot her a reproachful look.

"Yes, fine." Kali poked her head into their bathroom, swept the toiletries off the sink and into a bag, and flung it on top of the suitcases. "Fennec, get Sienna on the line. Now. Yes, I know she's busy, we're all busy, because her golden boy just caused an international incident. Go interrupt her."

There was a momentary silence, during which Kali shooed Ghira away from the stack of paperwork he was trying to sort through. "—unacceptable," he was saying. "I have no interest in exonerating the man, James, but if you ship him off to Atlas for a trial you're going to start a riot." He scowled. "Of course it's not a threat."

Legal precedents. Yes, they'd need those. Printout of the Vytal treaty... probably not necessary, but maybe someone had thought to slip something in there about which kingdom Amity Coliseum technically belonged to. Anything to get this trial the hell away from Mantle.

A threat, she thought, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. If that's what you call telling you not to smoke near a powder keg, James.

"Kali?"

She gave up trying to sort through the papers and crammed them all into one of the suitcases instead. Then, without bothering with pleasantries, "What are you going to do?"

"I'll leave it to Ghira to try to keep this in Vale," Sienna said shortly. "I can't go anywhere near that without giving Ironwood the green light to do whatever he wants. Tell him to try Sleet and Camilla. They're at least vaguely aware of the consequences for their own kingdom."

Kali glanced around the room, decided that anything she'd forgotten at this point could be replaced once they got to Vale, and snapped her fingers at Ghira. "He did. They don't think it's worth fighting over a tie." She pinched the scroll between her cheek and shoulder as she wrestled one of the bags down the stairs. Ghira followed her with the others, still arguing with James.

"Of course," Sienna scoffed, her voice thick with disgust. "I suppose we'll just have to hope Ironwood listens to Ozpin, because the gods know he's not going to pay Ghira any mind."

"So?" Kali prompted her. "What are you going to do?"

"Legal defense."

Her lip curled instinctively. "You're getting him a lawyer?"

"He needs one. Everyone may know he's guilty, but you and I both know Adam isn't the only one on trial here."

Kali muttered a string of increasingly creative curses. She'd forgotten how inconveniently right Sienna tended to be about optics. A spiteful part of her wanted very much to throw him to the wolves—if even half the media coverage about this afternoon's incident was true...

"As soon as that's taken care of, I need to focus on the Vale branch. Half of them blame Ilia for the failed attack, and the other half blame Adam for giving them away. There's reason to believe he went after Blake before she knew he was there."

"What?" blurted Kali, who had assumed Blake had been caught up in the attack because she'd recognized him. "Why?"

There was a reluctant pause. "He had a grudge. She left the Fang after he took over the Vale branch, and I suppose he took it personally. I just thought you should know, his following is on its way out. We'll just have to see how much damage it does in the meantime."

Gods. "Thank you," Kali said, and hung up.

She ducked into the car that waited for them outside their home, squeezing in beside Ghira the instant their luggage was all in the trunk. Driving in Menagerie was usually an exercise in futility—there weren't many cars on the island in the first place, and the streets were so crowded with foot traffic that it took longer than walking. But, given the emergency, they'd cleared a path so they could get to the boat in two minutes rather than twenty.

Every little bit might help. Kali was hoping to have at least a few days to prepare before the trial actually started, but first they had to get there. Whether they needed to go to Atlas or Vale, their journey would start with a two-week boat ride to Mistral. Air travel from Menagerie was impossible—too many aerial Grimm over the water, mostly because getting enough Huntsmen to come out and thin their numbers would have bankrupted the whole island.

If they'd actually had an airship, Kali might have risked it anyway. It was completely irrational, Blake had been on the news and she'd been fine. But part of her felt as though her little cub was still unarmed in a fight for her life, and she needed to get there now.

They couldn't even call her. Ozpin couldn't give out contact information—he'd promised to give Blake theirs, but they'd be on the ocean with no reception. If something happened, they wouldn't even know about it until they landed.

Kali reached for Ghira's shoulder and stared out to the northern horizon. Hold on, honey, she thought. We're on our way.